"rhythmes" poems
There is no shame in writing feelings.
I want to tattoo them inside.
My mind is a beautiful garden, and I can not get out of it.
The wall is nonexistent, but made of metal sticks, and I can see the exit, but I am hopelessly stuck.
Years or days ago I might write lovingly but now I am too stingy. I am penurious for words.
For all so many things inside me, I am a speechless animal.
It is like everything is higher than me, and I am already six feet underground looking up at their boots.
There is a rain in my garden.
Rain
Coming into town
Watching every window
Watching every widow
Watching every nook
The best spy ever
Talking cryptic rhythmes
During afternoons
Starting March till June
I wish there were no rain, no anything, nothing.
I feel like an astronaut
I feel like an astronaut
It's like my ID is a fraud
I feel like I'm here but I'm not
I am a dopamine ******
Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 6:54 AM UTC